


B roll

by badtemperedchocolate



Category: Bon Appétit Test Kitchen RPF, Chef RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:40:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21736225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badtemperedchocolate/pseuds/badtemperedchocolate
Summary: Sometimes you frame a shot wrong. That's all.
Relationships: Brad Leone/Claire Saffitz
Comments: 9
Kudos: 122





	B roll

**Author's Note:**

> this is a work of complete fiction.

It’s bright and early Thursday morning when Hunzi walks into the test kitchen.

He’s in a good mood. Brad’s current shoot has been going well. The latest project at the fermentation station (Hunzi can no longer stop his mind from adding the corresponding train whistle) has been reacting overnight, and Hunzi’s happy to see that the camera he rigged up to get time-lapse footage of the effect seems like it’s been working. It’s not really necessary, but Brad had mentioned the process would be a visually interesting one, so Hunzi had figured he could give it a shot.

* * *

At his computer upstairs, Hunzi pulls up his editing software and opens the massive video file. Maybe next time he’ll set up microphones, too, to see if he can catch any fizzing sounds, but for right now he’s fine with silent video.

He’s happy to see that the shot looks clean; he’d agonized over where to station everything, but even in the raw footage, the light and shadow look great.

Speeding through the footage, he sees the foam slowly building at the top of the glass jar, the tiny bubbles rising as the blush-pink hue gets stronger. Hunzi’s not really at Brad’s level of worship when it comes to the finer points of fermentation, but yeast _is_ pretty cool.

He’s about to copy and save the footage and get back downstairs when movement in the left side of the shot catches his eye. Glancing at the time stamp, Hunzi frowns. Odd. He’d thought the kitchen was empty by then.

So he slows down the footage to normal speed, watching intently, and his eyes go wide.

Oh.

 _Oh_.

* * *

Brad’s in the kitchen, tying on his apron, when Hunzi walks back in. “Heya, bud.” He clips on his lapel mic. “How’d the, uh, whatchamacallit? – the video thing with the jar? How’d that work out, ya get anything good?”

Hunzi has the brief urge to laugh maniacally, but resists it. He’s an adult, after all. “Well, kind of.”

Brad cocks his head. “What’s that mean?”

Hunzi half-wishes Brad would stop poking, but he’s also half gleeful because it’s possible he’s kind of a bad person. “Most of it’s fine, but I had to scrap the first part.”

“Something wrong with it?”

“Camera placement.”

“Camera placement?” Brad’s confused now. “The fuck? Didn’t it just sit there the whole time?”

“Well – yeah.” Hunzi folds his arms. “I framed it wrong. I got the wall ovens in the shot.”

There’s a long pause, but apparently that wasn’t obvious enough, because Brad keeps staring at him expectantly. “Yeah? And?”

“The wall ovens, Brad.” Hunzi gestures to them. “You know? The shiny metal ones? – with the reflective surface? – that reflects anyone around?” – (might as well be _real_ clear) – “ _whatever_ they’re doing?”

And _there_ it is.

Brad freezes. His expression goes from confused to utterly sheepish, and his ears start to approach tomato-red.

“Buddy, I, uh – it’s not –”

He looks absolutely mortified, and Hunzi decides that’s enough. “Like I said, I had to scrap it. So I guess no one has to see that, right?”

“Right.” Brad nods slowly. “I, uh – thanks.”

Hunzi shrugs. “For what?”

“Right. Right.” Brad tugs off his cap, running his hands through his messy hair, and suddenly Hunzi catches just the faintest glimpse of red on his earlobe. It’s faint, but it’s there.

And there’s no actual _proof_ that it’s a bite mark, but given the circumstantial evidence, Hunzi’s still willing to bet on it.

“Are we good?” he asks, and Brad smiles at him. It’s genuine and relieved, and Hunzi wonders if Brad knows that literally everyone in the test kitchen has kind of been waiting for this.

(In the abstract, anyway. Hunzi’s fairly sure no one was actually taking bets on which kitchen island they'd use.)

“We’re good, bud.” He claps a hand on Hunzi’s shoulder. “You’re the best, ya know that?”

“Right.” Hunzi raises an eyebrow. “Thank _God_ there’s no audio.”

* * *

When Claire walks in later that morning, iced coffee in hand, Hunzi can’t help but notice the sparkle in her eyes, and soft blush on her cheeks as she walks over to say hello to Brad.

There’s also a hickey on her neck, but she’s doing a good job hiding it with her hair, so he thinks that should earn her some credit.

When Molly walks by, asks Claire how she’s doing, Claire says _a little sore today_ and Hunzi almost chokes on the water he’s drinking.

Brad shoots Hunzi a panicked look, but Hunzi just shrugs. He’s not going to give Claire a hard time about it. Claire’s much more private than Brad, and it would genuinely bother her.

Hunzi’s not a bad person.

“Hey, Hunzi.” Claire nudges his shoulder, looking down at the jar. “How’d this go last night? It looks like something rose.”

Hunzi grins to himself.

(Okay, he’s _kind_ of a bad person.)

“Oh, something _rose_ , all right.”


End file.
